


One Thing Off the Bucket List

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Reader, Female Reader NSFW, Female Reader SMUT, John Winchester NSFW, John Winchester SMUT, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and John cross something off both of your bucket lists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Thing Off the Bucket List

Sex in the Impala had been one of your fantasies since you first laid eyes on the beautiful car; her black paint shimmering in the sunlight as she coasted to a stop at Singer’s Salvage. There wasn’t anything about her that didn’t make your skin prickle with excitement. Not even what most people might call blemishes, like the way her doors creaked no matter how much WD-40 was applied. Nope. The bitch was bad ass and fucking beautiful.

Then there was her driver, John Winchester. Your mouth went completely dry at the sight of him; dark curly hair with grey starting to color his sideburns, several days worth of scruff on his cheeks and chin, dark brown jacket over a black Henley, and long jean-clad legs. The callouses that bit into your hand as you shook his had your more sensitive skin aching for his touch.

For the next two years, you rode with him, riding shotgun with his boys in the back. You watched as they shoved little army men into the heater vents, as they carved their initials into the back window, as they slept in the backseat, covered with their father’s jacket, as they grew like weeds, needing new clothes almost every other week; not to mention their shoes.

Despite the fact that he said nothing would ever happen, you flirted shamelessly with the elder Winchester, loving the way he smiled and rolled his eyes at the attention. More times than not, he’d grit his teeth and tell you how it would never work, how you’d get hurt, how he’d be the cause of your pain. But the next day, you’d start in on him; bumping his knee with yours, brushing your fingers along his knuckles as you reached for something, leaning in super close so it was hard for him to look away from your ample breasts.

There were a handful of times that you kissed him, catching him by surprise. And out of those times, he didn’t immediately pull back for three of them. The first one lasted less than half a minute, just enough to get your blood pumping as you nipped at his bottom lip. The second time he sighed against your lips and tangled a hand in your hair. The third time… whew! The third time he had you pinned to the wall with his hips, rough hands grazing your sides and back. His beard burned your chin before he remembered that the boys needed to be picked up from school.

After that, he made sure one, or both, of the boys were with him at all times. Almost as if he didn’t trust you, or himself. He’d jerk back from your touch, look the other way when you smiled; altogether doing everything he could to push you away. Until the night you snapped.

You shouted at him, calling him every name in the book, and then some, before storming out of the cheap motel. God, he pissed you off! Talking to you like you were a child, treating you as if you’d break; it was enough to make you scream.

The motel door closed a handful of minutes later, “Go away, John.”

He found you on the still warm hood of the Impala, leaning against the windshield, and staring up at the onyx sky, “Y/N, please-”

“I’ll be outta your hair in the morning.”

“What?” He asked in a strangled tone.

The sound made your stomach knot up, “You don’t want me here.”

“Now hold on a damn minute, I never said that.”

That was when you looked at him, clenching your jaw to try and keep the tears at bay, “You sure as shit been actin’ like it.”

John scraped a hand over his face, sighing heavily as his head fell forward, “Y/N…”

You waited for a beat, then another, and another, but he didn’t say anything more. You hated to admit how much you loved the way he said your name, like he was meant to say it. Your chin quaked when he shook his head.

“Tell me something, John. Do you… do you want me here?”

“Fuck yes,” the words rushed out before he could even think to stop them.

“Then… I don’t understand. Why are you pushing me away? I thought… that last kiss was-”

“Incredible,” he met your eyes and the intensity in them took your breath away. “You have to understand,” John came to stand in front of you, “after we lost Mary, I swore I’d never get attached to another person. I couldn’t… we can’t go through that again.”

Every time he talked about Mary, he would fiddle with the silver band on his fourth finger. You slid down the hood, careful not to scratch her, and rested your feet on the bumper so that John was standing between your legs. You cupped his face, the stubble biting into your palm as he leaned into your touch, “I don’t want you to go through that again. But am I wrong in assuming that you want this as much as me?”

He spread his hands on your thighs and squeezed. “No, you’re not wrong,” his hot breath fanned against your neck.

The last thing you wanted to do was hurt John and the boys, but there was no way you’d forgive yourself if you let the chance at happiness pass you by. He went to speak again, but you didn’t give him the chance. You crushed your lips into his, holding him there by the back of his neck as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

John groaned against your tongue, the last of his resolve crumbling away when you locked your ankles behind him. He grabbed your ass and lower back, digging strong fingers into your soft skin as they slid beneath your shirt. Goosebumps rippled along your spine, sending heat straight to your core. With his hand digging into your ass, you ground your hips against him, tugging on his hair when his cock twitched against your sex.

You pulled back, breathless from the kiss and the sight of how fucking good kiss swollen lips looked on him. Reaching around, you grabbed his hand and placed it on your breast, squeezing it roughly before sliding it down your belly. You held his gaze as you undid your jeans, biting your bottom lip while pushing his hand into your panties.

He moaned your name obscenely at the brush of curls and damp heat against his fingers. You unhooked your legs and spread them wide, opening yourself to him. With your fingers guiding him, callouses bit into your sensitive lips, working back and forth to spread your slick along his fingers and into his palm. One long digit entered you, all the way to the third knuckle, pulling a long moan from deep within you. You grabbed his wrist as he stroked you languidly, his wide thumb circling the knot of nerves. He blew out a shuddering breath and slid another finger in, crooking them to find your g-spot.

He barely brushed over it before his touch was gone. With a growl, John kissed you fiercely as he ripped off your jeans and panties, tossing them on the top of the Impala; your shirt and bra joining them seconds later. You leaned back, the heat of the hood seeping into your muscles as he kissed and bit a burning trail between your breasts and down your stomach.

You perched your feet on his shoulders before he buried his face in your pussy, his fingers driving in and out, sending wet sounds of sex into the dark and vacant lot. He scissored his thick fingers back and forth before finding the rough patch of skin that would send you into oblivion. Just as he found it, he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, scraping his teeth over the over sensitive knot. Your legs shook as you came, sending a shout of his name into the onyx sky. A thin layer of sweat broke out, your skin squeaking as your ass and shoulder blades worked against the warm metal.

With your heart pounding and ears buzzing, John lifted you from the hood and carried you around to the passenger side, dropping slick-coated kisses to your neck. Your hands found the button of his jeans and quickly undid them, pushing them, and his boxer briefs, down as he toed out of his boots. The thick length of his cock slid between your folds as he dropped into the car, pulling the door closed as he went.

You ripped off his shirt, throwing it in the backseat before dragging your nails through the charcoal hair around his nipples and down his belly. The bittersweet tang of your cum was thick on his lips and tongue, dripping off his beard and onto your breasts as he kissed you savagely.

With your hand around his cock, you dropped down, guiding him into your tight pussy an inch at a time. He sure as hell felt thicker than he looked, stretching you to the point that pain ate at the edges of the pleasure coursing through you. When he was completely seated, you gripped the back of the leather seats, nails biting into the sun-hardened material.

Rough hands drug along your back before resting on your hips. A foul sounding moan spilled between you, blowing hot air onto your slick skin, “Fuck, baby girl. So fuckin’ tight.”

The bite of pain ebbed, quickly replaced by a wave of pleasure as the head of his slightly curved cock twitched against your g-spot. You rocked your hips and watched as his eyes rolled back, as he bit his bottom lip when his head fell against the headrest.

The harder you snapped your hips, the louder he grunted your name. Every couple of thrusts, his hand would smack your ass, echoing the wet sounds of sex. Your back arched as the coil in your belly wound tighter, a wide hand on the small of your back supporting you as your shoulder blades came to a rest on the dash.

John’s mouth was on your breasts, biting and sucking your nipples almost raw, his beard biting into the sensitive skin, marking you as his. You grabbed his hair as you came, shuddering and clamping down on him like a vice, begging for him to cum with you. His hips stuttered as your juices washed over him and it only took a handful of thrusts before he followed, pulsing thick streams of cum, your spasming walls milking every last drop from him.

An upside down night sky slowly came into focus as the roar of your heartbeat faded from your ears. John’s sweat-dampened head was between your breasts, listening to the pounding of your heart as he panted. Biting your bottom lip, you squeezed the back of his neck and sat up slowly, almost cumming again as he shifted inside you.

John sat back, chocolate eyes fluttering closed at the feel of your nails dragging along his scalp as his own fingers carded through your hair, twirling the ends around the tips. He sighed low in his throat as you kissed him. This kiss wasn’t like the others, it wasn’t rushed or frantic. This kiss was slow and deliberate, sending a different kind of shudder down your spine.

He rubbed your nose with his as he pulled back, “Well, that’s one thing I can cross off my bucket list.”

“Sex in the Impala is… was on your bucket list?”

“Fuck yeah!”

With a wicked smirk, you flexed yourself around his softening cock, “The hood and front seat have been done. What do you say we hit the back seat next?”

John squeezed your ass and winked, “Get yer sweet ass back there.”


End file.
